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We Played Paintball in Large Maze Warehouse Funner than Video Games

Me and the guys decided to have fun on the weekend; no big deal, we needed it. But the major problem, I have to say, was picking the right thing actually to do. Left for me, I’ll drink beer and play on my ps4, and lazy around, but this was not left for me. I got three friends: Leo, Chow, and Johan. In truth, those are just our gaming ID (I’m spike); their names are Sam, Ki, and Josef, respectively. They call me Clyde, but does all that matter? We’ll see.

The thing about my clique and I is, we have a lot of fun, and we get super competitive. This doesn’t necessarily take away the fun though; the fun has to stay, that’s our motto. Scratch that, no it isn’t.

“I guess we could go out?” Chow said.

“No kidding,” Leo said, tossing a tennis ball against the wall and catching it while resting against a beanbag chair.

“I give up,” Chow said and threw his hands up. I chuckled, and he turned to me, “what? all he does is bounce that tennis ball all day.”

“Tennis ball?” I repeated, and Chow gave me an odd look, arching his eyebrows and frowning. “What, isn’t that what it’s called?”

“No, no,” I said, and his frown deepened. “No, I mean yes, that’s what it’s called. But that’s not my point.”

“Well, what is it called then?” Johan said and sat up, smirking as he enjoyed what he was watching.

I sighed and massaged my temple. “What I meant was that the tennis ball gave me an idea for a fun weekend activity.”

“I ain’t playing tennis ball,” Leo said.

“You can’t play tennis ball,” Johan corrected in a calm voice.

“Oh yeah?” Leo said and then turned to me. “Clyde, when do we hit the court? I want to school a kid and teach him some manners.”

I sighed and shook my head. “No one’s hitting nay court, and I don’t think that’s something anyone says. What I actually want us to do, if you guys would just let me speak, is paintball.”

They became silent as my suggestion echoed through the room. “That’s much better than tennis,” one of them said—I think it was Leo.

“I know, and that’s why I never suggested tennis in the first place.”

And so we decided on paintball for the weekend. This was going to be so much fun; I knew because even the most mundane and boring of activities somehow became fun when the guys were around (and that includes tossing paper airplanes). HOTSHOT PAINTBALL PLACE was where we found ourselves an hour later, all geared up for paintball, which meant which just came with a duffel bag which had a change of clothes.

“I don’t know about the name ‘Hotshot paintball place,’” Chow said.

Johan chuckled—he was the silent one in the group, only tossing a few comments here and there when it mattered, like now. “I think it’s okay, bruh.” Bruh? He must have picked that up from Comedy Central or something.

We paid for entry and got in. Hotshot Paintball Place was basically like a large warehouse with lots of squares built in like a maze, for more action satisfaction (according to their commercial). The place was really big, so much so that they had an adjoining section for kids and some kind of practice range. We didn’t need any of those; we wanted to go all out combat, so we got the maze-like warehouse.

“Alright, there’s four of us,” I said as our gears arrived. “Should we make it a free for all, or team up?”

“Team up, obviously,” Chow said, and the others nodded.

“Well, I guess that’s two teams of two players each,” I said.

“Great job, mathematician,” Johan said.

“Very funny,” I said and we all geared up—which was just a black vest, a goggle and our paintball guns.

“Teams of blue and orange,” I said, particularly feeling like a mercenary in my vest, even anchoring my gun on my shoulder, wishing there was a mirror to show just how cool I looked. “I guess we gotta draw lots or something.”

“No, we don’t,” Leo said. “I’m with Chow. You go with Johan, as we always do in video games.”

“You sure?” I asked, and Johan walked up to me and tapped my shoulder, “let’s go, bruh.” Again with the bruh.

We split up into two teams and got on either corner of the large warehouse. I managed to convince the guy there—some supervisor—to ring a bell or something. He used a loud buzzer. Do I say there was a real tactic or possible goal in this game of ours? No, definitely not. We were playing, and we were playing for fun.

So I wasn’t really surprised to see Chow running out, yelling as he fired paintballs at us. Of course, 80% of his shorts just smashed against the cardboard walls, the remaining 20% hit the floor, and one actually grazed my shoulders. Anyway, he was soon standing in front of us, breathing hard.

His eyes opened wide when Johan and I unloaded our shots on him. Trust Chow to be dramatic, he fell on the floor, his vest all covered in orange paint, and clawed the ground as he struggled to crawl to safety, gasping aloud like someone who’d been really shot. Leo jumped out like some commando, firing at us and tugging Chow by the arm across the floor like a fallen soldier.

We laughed and shot at each other that way, blasting paintballs which splashed against our vests, and arms, and even our goggles. One thing was sure as we got home: we sure had a lot of fun, and we decided to go paintballing again sometime, but until then we still got each other and our multiplayer games, and loads of other fun times ahead.